


Renting Crowley

by Amorous_Flammetta



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Chubby Aziraphale (Good Omens), Costumes, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Roleplay, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut, Smut, Thank you for my pornography, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Victorian, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 16:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21304829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorous_Flammetta/pseuds/Amorous_Flammetta
Summary: Crowley acts out Aziraphale's Victorian-era fantasy of taking a rent boy home for the night. Their little game includes costumes, champagne, dirty talk and explicit sex!TW: Very brief and very vague mention of imagined violence. There is no actual violence in the plot of the fic itself! Just two supernatural beings lovingly living out a kinky fantasy.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 52
Kudos: 459





	Renting Crowley

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all!  
It has been a while! I'm sorry to have been absent - I was obsessively working to complete my extremely complicated Halloween costume and a handful of half-finished fics fell by the wayside. The plus side though, is that I have work to come back to that I can hopefully finish with relative ease!  
As I mentioned in the summary, this fic contains ONE BRIEF, VERY VAGUE MENTION OF IMAGINED VIOLENCE during some made-up dirty talk. THERE IS NO ACTUAL VIOLENCE IN THE FIC. I want to make sure that I don't put any of you lovely readers in a situation that you don't want to be in.  
I promise, it really is a fun, raunchy little romp.  
Sordidly yours,  
Amorous Flammetta.

“Where the Devil is he?” Crowley hissed, stepping from foot to foot. 

He reached into is vest pocket and pulled out a gleaming silver pocket watch, elegant with etched filigree. It was eight twenty-five in the evening. His angel was supposed to be there soon. Crowley glanced around furtively. He was standing just in the mouth of a side street. He hoped to Someone that as few people noticed him as possible. 

Crowley was dressed in fine tailored clothes that would have been right at home in the late 1800s. Tailored black slacks and fine leather boots, a black vest clinging to his svelte waistline with a line of too-many buttons down the center. Over the vest, he wore a jacket with a raised flocked filigree pattern. Under the vest, he wore a fine black shirt, with a lush black velvet bowtie at the neck. 

“_Really_, angel?” Crowley had groused, “A blessed _bowtie_?”

“Crowley, dear, it’s _essential_!” Aziraphale had replied, adorably petulant. 

Crowley raised his leather gloved hand and tugged at the bowtie, not used to constricting or high-necked shirt collars. 

“It’s _essential_,” Crowley mocked, stepping further back into the alleyway. 

At least he had been able to select his own clothes within Aziraphale’s highly-specific guidelines. 

Atop his head, Crowley wore a tall black top hat. He wore small dark round spectacles to hide his snake-like eyes. He popped open the lid of his pocket watch again. Eight-thirty on the dot. _Where was he?_

Various people had been walking by, delighted folks on their way to dinner or to the pub. Several glanced at the tall, bespectacled, be-hatted man in the alleyway. Crowley knew,_ just knew_, that he would be the subject of many an “amusing” anecdote for others to tell their friends that evening. 

_Somebody’s goth uncle_, he thought with a bitter sneer. 

He paced and hopped from foot to foot, waiting for his angel. Crowley lost himself in his annoyance and embarrassment, gesturing to himself, grumbling with his head down. When he turned to face the mouth of the alley again, he saw him. Aziraphale. Under a halo of light from a streetlamp in the gathering darkness of the evening. 

He took in the sight before he was noticed. Aziraphale wore a stout top hat, with beige tartan trousers and a long beige coat. Beneath, he wore a faintly-metallic vest of golden shot silk, into which was tucked a pale blue cravat. A high, starched white collar framed his soft jaw. His hands were clasped nervously over his stomach. Crowley winced faintly at the tartan trousers and winced harder at the golden monocle covering one of Aziraphale’s eyes. He took a deep breath and gently grasped the bricks of the building he stood nearest, peering just out of the side street he had been lurking in. He took a deep breath and let it out.

“Hullo, sir,” Crowley called, “You lost?”

Aziraphale turned sharply, spying the dapper demon in his top hat. He squinted before removing his monocle and tucking it away, much to Crowley’s relief. 

“Oh, yes. Hello! I seem to have lost my way,” he called from under the streetlamp. 

“Would you like some assistance, sir?” Crowley asked, stepping out of the alley and slowly approaching his angel. 

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in a shy smile, eyeing Crowley from head to toe appreciatively. He looked so very handsome. 

“Oh, yes. That would be lovely, err, what is your name?” Aziraphale asked convincingly, holding out his hand in a pristine white glove. 

“Anthony Crowley,” Crowley responded, seizing Aziraphale’s hand and holding it tightly, “And _you_ are?”

“Ezra Fell,” Aziraphale said, “Pleasure.”

Crowley was still holding his hand tightly, a little too long to be casual. Aziraphale’s polite smile faltered slightly as he heard the creak of the demon’s leather glove as he finally relinquished his hand. 

“Mr. Fell, would you like an escort home?” Crowley asked, peering down at him from over his little glasses, “You’ve happened to land yourself in quite the _rough_ part of town.”

Crowley walked around his angel, appraising him from behind before circling back in front of him. Crowley bowed at the waist in apparent supplication. Of course, it was _not_ a rough part of town. This was all part of the game. 

“A gentleman of your _standing_ shouldn’t be here, and certainly shouldn’t be here _unattended_,” he continued, flashing a toothy grin. 

“Oh, dear boy, I would very much appreciate an escort home,” Aziraphale said politely, with a little nervous titter, “Very kind of you, really.” 

They stood in silence for a beat before Crowley changed his posture. He clasped his hands together over one hip almost coquettishly and canted his weight to that hip. He broke out in a wolfish grin. 

“Would Mr. Fell like to take my arm?” he asked, casting his angel a flirtatious glance over his glasses. 

Aziraphale hooked his elbow with Crowley’s offered arm and smiled, gradually flushing. 

“Yes, Anthony, I certainly would like that,” he beamed, still a bit nervous, “My, but you are a dear boy.”

Crowley grinned and led Aziraphale down the street. They passed people, some of which gave them lingering looks. Most thought they were just on their way to a fancy dress party, or were historical reenactors. A very few picked up on what was actually going on. 

“So, Mr. Fell, what do you do for work?” Crowley asked, still leading him by the arm. 

“Oh, I run a bookshop. That’s the address you’re taking me back to,” Aziraphale chirped conversationally. 

“Bookshop? You must be an educated fellow,” Crowley replied inscrutably. 

Aziraphale smiled and blushed slightly. Crowley relished the feeling of Aziraphale cuddled up to his side as they sauntered down the street. 

“Comes with the territory, I suppose. You must come in and have a look. I’ve a great many books on all topics,” he enthused. 

“Don’t read much,” Crowley casually continued, “though I’m happy to pop in.” 

“What is your line of employment, Anthony?” the angel asked, glancing up at his tall companion. 

Crowley hesitated, weighing and measuring his words in his head, trying to pick the best fit. 

“Oh, I do all sorts of things, Mr. Fell,” he said simply, “Perhaps I’ll tell you more at the bookshop.”

Aziraphale felt a little flare of arousal at the words. Soon enough, they stood on the steps of the bookshop, Aziraphale reluctantly loosing his arm from Crowley’s. He unlocked and opened the door, staring at Crowley, silently bidding him to go in. The demon went in slowly, and marveled silently at all the books as though he’d never seen so many in one place in his whole life. 

“That certainly is a lot of books, sir,” he said, standing still and scanning his eyes back and forth.

“Anthony, come sit, dear boy,” Aziraphale said from a short distance away. 

He was seated on a very comfortable-looking chaise. Before him was a low table littered with sweets and tidbits, a bucket of iced champagne. He patted the cushion next to him.

“Oh, Mr. Fell, I couldn’t,” Crowley began, holding up his hands in polite refusal. 

“Oh, nonsense! You’ve come all this way to ensure my safe return. Feeding you something is the least I can do. The butler must’ve gone to such trouble to lay this out, and you look like you’ve not had a nibble in weeks,” Aziraphale said, patting the cushion next to him again. 

It took supernatural strength for Crowley to not chuckle at the mention of the nonexistent butler. 

The demon decided to remove his hat, as Aziraphale had already placed his hat and gloves meticulously on his desk. He revealed his elegantly coifed red hair, carefully combed back with a defined part to one side, a careful curl resting to one side of his forehead. He caught his reflection in the glass of one of the front windows. He had really wanted to resurrect his late-Victorian muttonchops, but didn’t think it would’ve been appropriate for the role he was supposed to be playing tonight. He thought Aziraphale might prefer his boy to be clean cut and well manicured. He glanced down at his shining nails and smiled. 

Crowley crossed the space between them and sat next to Aziraphale, who began busying himself preparing a plate for his newfound waif. He handed Crowley a small gilt-edged plate in a lovely pink floral pattern. It was piled with bits of pastry and what looked to be cucumber sandwiches. Aziraphale busied himself making his own plate.

“Some champagne, Anthony?” he asked, already filling one delicate glass flute. 

“Oh, Mr. Fell… I couldn’t,” Crowley said earnestly, “You’ve been so kind already.”

“Oh, _hardly_, dear boy,” he said, pouring a second flute. He lifted one, handing the other to the lovely demon.

He settled back into the seat and eyed Crowley hopefully. Crowley carefully removed his black leather gloves, the material creaked as he did so. He placed them in his coat pocked and reached for his small plate, deciding to nibble on a bit of pastry to please the angel. 

“Mr. Fell, this is exceedingly kind of you,” he said, reaching for some sort of jam-filled pastry. 

“Really, it is the least I could do!” Aziraphale exclaimed, as he began to tuck in to his plate, “You’ve gone so far out of your way to ensure my safe return.”

Aziraphale lifted his glass and looked hopefully at Crowley. Crowley smiled at him and they clinked glasses before sharing a drink. After a few moments of quiet eating, Aziraphale cocked his head toward Crowley. 

“Anthony, you never did tell me what line of work you’re in,” he began, sighing as he broke apart a small croissant, revealing chocolate spread in the middle. 

“’m a rent boy,” he said simply, sipping his champagne. 

“_Oh!_” Aziraphale said, as though surprised. 

“I thought you knew?” Crowley said, setting down his small plate of treats. 

“Oh, dear boy, I would never _assume_,” Aziraphale began, looking faintly flushed. 

Crowley had decided that it was time to move forward in their little game. This was, after all, not a game of “well-fed aristocrat takes care of scrawny street urchin.” Crowley couldn’t help but grin at that. He had consumed much mortal television over the decades and immediately thought of himself as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, dress and all. 

Crowley quashed the thought and reached over to placed his hand on top of Aziraphale’s, which was tremulously balancing the small plate of confections on his thigh. 

“I thought,” Crowley began, leaning closer to his angel, “that was why you asked me to come in.”

Crowley’s tone was sensuous, his eyes meeting Aziraphale’s in a lazy, alluring glance over his little round glasses. Aziraphale’s hand trembled slightly. He was lightheaded with arousal. Crowley was playing his part so wonderfully. 

“Oh, Anthony,” he began in solemn tones, “I really couldn’t… What would people think if they found out? My reputation could be ruined.”

“Part of being a rent boy,” Crowley began, leaning closer to Aziraphale, stretching his long body across the chaise, “Is being _discreet_, Mr. Fell.”

Crowley’s fingertips traced a languid, hair-raising trail up Aziraphale’s hand, stopping at a small bit of exposed wrist. He was glad when he caught Aziraphale's eyes lingering over his manicured nails. 

Aziraphale tensed his shoulders and appeared to mull over the looming decision before him. He looked across the chaise at Crowley’s long, lean body, at how beautifully his clothes clung to him, at the flocked filigree of his coat, begging to be touched. He lifted his flute and downed what was left of his champagne. 

“Perhaps I could pour you some more, Mr. Fell?” Crowley asked, sitting up and reaching for the bottle. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, sounding rather choked. 

Crowley held the angel’s hand in his with a deceptively feather-light touch and refilled his flute. He absently set the bottle of champagne back into the ice bucket. Aziraphale lifted the flute to his lips and Crowley took his chance. He carefully took the plate of sweets from his angel’s thigh and set it onto the table as well. He reached up to gently finger Aziraphale’s scarf, still tucked into his shot silk vest. His hand pressed to the angel’s chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric. He trailed his hand downward, pressing as he dragged it down Aziraphale’s soft, rounded belly. He stopped at the line of his belt. Crowley lifted his eyes expectantly. The angel tugged at his collar nervously. 

“Anthony, are you… Are you free of any diseases?” he asked with noticeable discomfort. 

“Yes, sir. The better care I take of my body, the more I’m able to charge,” Crowley drawled, shifting on the chaise, “Can’t afford any diminishing returns, so I take very good care of myself.”

His fingers were rubbing against Aziraphale’s belt buckle, driving the angel positively mad. 

“I-I can see that,” he said thickly, glancing again at his wanton demon. 

“And do you like what you see, Mr. Fell?” Crowley asked, running his free hand down his long torso until it rested on the inside of his thigh, alluringly close to his crotch. 

“Y-yes,” Aziraphale stammered at the lewd gesture. 

Crowley sat up straighter and took his champagne flute, polishing off the rest before he put it on the table next to the ice bucket. He carefully, slowly gripped Aziraphale by the lapels of his coat and leaned himself back at an excruciatingly languid pace, pulling the angel down on top of him. Halfway down, Crowley pressed their lips together in a firm kiss. Crowley had managed to slip one leg to the inside of the chaise as he went down. By the time he was fully on his back, Aziraphale was between his legs, his warm, plush body molding to Crowley’s lean one, the only thing separating them being several layers of finery. 

Crowley upped the insistence of the kiss, releasing Aziraphale’s lapels, lifting his upper body by resting his weight on his elbows down at his sides. Aziraphale’s hands were braced on either side of him, his grip feeling unsure. Crowley’s lips were moving against Aziraphale’s as though he were speaking silent temptations, things that only he could hear. The kiss broke and Aziraphale was breathing heavily. He sat up and began to work swiftly and efficiently on the gemmy black buttons down the front of Crowley’s vest. 

Crowley was vaguely amazed, though he knew that Aziraphale must have a fair amount of expertise in the area of Victorian clothing, being that most of his personal wardrobe had been carefully preserved from that very era. The brush of his angel’s fingers nearly tickled. The buttons seemed endless to Crowley. Meanwhile, Aziraphale was savoring every last one, marveling at the outfit that Crowley had put together for him. He placed his hands flat against Crowley’s stomach when all the buttons had been loosed and pushed the sides of his vest away from his body.  
He stroked his hands up and down the smooth plane of Crowley’s torso. The demon craned his neck back in pleasure, savoring the tingle that he felt in the wake of Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale pressed his palms to Crowley's ribs through his coat, rubbing and feeling the flocked filigree tickling his skin. Crowley practically purred underneath him. Those hands eventually came up to feel his black velvet bowtie reverently. Crowley glanced down at this angel.

“It’s lovely,” he breathed quietly, looking up at Crowley with wide eyes. 

He reached up and gently took the demon’s glasses from his nose, placing them carefully on the table. Aziraphale’s hands returned to the bowtie, carefully undoing it as slowly as possible. The rich velvet beneath his fingertips nearly gave him chills. The fact that his lover had put on a bowtie _for him _and_ only him_ succeeded in giving him chills. 

The bowtie fell limply away from Crowley’s collar. Aziraphale began to work wordlessly at the buttons of his shirt. Crowley tried not to squirm beneath his angel. He was already fully hard, and he felt Aziraphale’s Effort brushing against him. Aziraphale drank in every inch of his lover - his pronounced collarbone, his red chest hair, his dusky pink nipples. Once his shirt had been unbuttoned, Aziraphale smoothed his hands over Crowley’s body. His skin was so smooth. Aziraphale wanted to taste every inch of him. 

“Anthony, you’re so beautiful,” he said quietly, reverently. 

“Would you like to see more, Mr. Fell?” Crowley asked alluringly, “Tell me how far you’d like to take me, and we’ll sort out the payment details later. You seem like you’re good for the cash.”

“Yes, dear boy, I certainly would like to see more,” Aziraphale moaned, feeling Crowley sliding out from underneath him. 

Aziraphale sat up straight on the chaise and Crowley came to stand before him, close between his knees. He slipped elegantly out of his long filigree coat, flinging it into a nearby chair. Next was his vest, sliding it off his long arms while maintaining positively smoldering eye contact with his angel. He let the vest drop to the floor and then began slowly peeling his shirt away, baring his supple skin for Aziraphale’s perusal. Once Crowley was naked to the waist, he stepped closer to Aziraphale, between his soft thighs. He took Aziraphale’s hands and rested them on his hips, canting them slightly forward. 

Aziraphale rubbed his thumbs over Crowley’s soft skin, staring up at him in wordless awe. He leaned forward and began to kiss the soft skin of Crowley’s belly, feeling his slim body writhe slightly in his gentle grasp. He moved his lips slowly over the skin, tasting the salt of his flesh. His tongue dipped briefly into Crowley's navel, then travelled lower, through the stripe of red hair that disappeared into his trousers. Aziraphale moved to the side to press an admiring kiss to one of Crowley's defined hips, just below the lovely crease of it. Crowley trembled slightly, resting his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. The angel glanced up at him, his chubby cheeks flushed with unmistakable lust. Crowley stroked a hand through his fluffy curls before speaking. 

“Mr. Fell, shall I go further?” he asked. 

“Yes!” was the angel’s breathless response. 

Crowley slowly knelt between his thighs, smoothing his hands up Aziraphale’s legs. He reached up and unbuckled his belt carefully, smiling at the glinting golden buckle. He noticed that Aziraphale’s trousers had a button-fly and began to carefully unbutton, teasingly making sure not to put any pressure on his cock, which was tenting said trousers. Crowley, secretly and for once, admired the tartan pattern of Aziraphale's trousers, as it really accentuated the bulge of his cock.

Crowley left the top button at Aziraphale’s waist closed. He reached into his trousers and freed his lover’s cock. It sprang forth as though relieved. Aziraphale gasped at the feeling. Crowley appraised the thick organ in his hand, feeling its heat and heft. He gently wrapped his hand around the girth of it and gave a few teasing pumps.

“_Very_ impressive, Mr. Fell,” he purred, “… Now, what shall I do with it?”

“Take me into your mouth,” Aziraphale said with certainty, barely above a whisper. 

“Yessir,” Crowley said, licking his lips and slowly wrapping them around his angel’s cock. 

Crowley felt his member throbbing insistently in his mouth as he swallowed it halfway down, wrapping his fingers tightly around the base. He began to briskly suck as he squeezed with his hand. Aziraphale let out a few surprised, scandalized gasps above him. Crowley opened his eyes, briefly admiring the flossy blond pubic hair that was at eye level, just below the crease of his lover's belly. 

“Anthony!” Aziraphale exclaimed. 

Crowley moved his hand away and took Aziraphale’s entire cock down his throat, ironically causing the angel to choke. He began to slowly bob his head, making sure each stroke was nice and wet. Aziraphale had both of Crowley’s shoulders tightly in his grasp. Seeing Crowley topless between his knees, his hair expertly coiffed; it was one of the most sexual things he had ever witnessed. The angel felt his eyes rolling as the pleasure mounted, listening to the wet sucking sounds. He groaned and braced the demon’s shoulders with his hands, forcing him still. 

“Oh, dear boy, that is quite enough,” he said, his chest heaving. 

Crowley slowly pulled his mouth off of his lover’s cock. 

“Do you not like it, sir?” Crowley asked, looking up at him with honesty in his eyes, his slim fingers splayed over the angel’s inner thighs. His lips were shining. 

“Oh, it was _marvelous_, Anthony, but I don’t want to finish too soon,” Aziraphale replied. 

“Mr. Fell, you finish when you want to finish. You don’t have to impress me,” he said, “Remember, you’re in charge. You are paying for it, after all.”

Aziraphale lurched slightly, those words hitting him like a bolt of electricity. 

“Shall I undress you, Mr. Fell?” Crowley asked. 

Aziraphale nodded wordlessly. Crowley reached up first and loosed his scarf. He moved his hands down to Aziraphale’s fine vest, brushing his fingers over it as though he were impressed. Compared to Crowley’s vest, it had very few buttons – a fact for which the demon was very glad. He wasted no time with Aziraphale’s immaculate white shirt. He flew through the buttons hastily, baring Aziraphale’s soft, creamy flesh. 

Crowley stood slowly, leaning forward to push off Aziraphale’s coat and shirt at once, the vest and scarf acquiescing without quarrel. The demon pressed his hands flat against the angel’s shoulders and pushed them down his arms as the clothing fell away in their wake. Crowley marveled at his lover’s fair body, all curves and swells, everything so soft and warm and inviting and lovely. He felt himself salivating. 

“Mr. Fell,” he breathed, devouring him with his eyes, “Look at you.”

Indeed, Aziraphale was a sight. His knees were spread, his hard cock jutting out of his fly, his fully belly and soft chest heaving with breath, a soft pink flush traveling down his neck. He looked desperate. He looked wanting. 

“Nonsense, dear boy,” Aziraphale said in attempted deflection, feeling his flush momentarily deepen. 

“Oh, no, Mr. Fell,” Crowley said, crawling into his lap, “You’ve got the body of an _aristocrat_.”

Aziraphale held his breath as he felt his cock head drag along the gusset of Crowley’s trousers. Crowley, of course, never one to lay it on lightly, sat straight on Aziraphale’s cock, trapping it in between them. He began to kiss Aziraphale’s warm neck, slowly moving down to his chest. 

“Oh, Anthony,” Aziraphale moaned, trying not to buck his hips. 

Crowley’s hands rested at Aziraphale’s ample waist, squeezing gently at the flesh there as his mouth travelled down his chest, leaving a burning trail in its wake. He always found his lover to be positively delicious. He rubbed is nose into Aziraphale's silky chest hair, inhaling the scent at the ample cleave of his chest. 

“Mmmm,” Crowley rumbled as he straightened up again.

He rocked his hips teasingly and felt Aziraphale tense beneath him, the latter crying out slightly. Aziraphale reached between them and made quick work of Crowley’s belt and fly, freeing his cock from its confines. Crowley hissed appreciatively. 

“I think… I think I should like to watch you pleasure yourself,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley grinned, carefully rocking back off of the angel’s lap. He pushed down his pants and underwear, revealing his slim thighs all the way down to his calves, but left them pooled around the ankles of his boots. Crowley sat back down on the chaise. He leaned back and perched one leg on the cushion, bent at the knee. The other leg hung carelessly off the furniture, tethered by his crumpled pants. The spread of his thighs was positively wanton. He locked eyes with Aziraphale and abruptly spit into his own palm before reaching down to grab his aching cock. 

Aziraphale didn’t tear his eyes from Crowley’s body as he leaned forward to pour the demon another flute of champagne and placed it in his free hand. Crowley tipped his head back and drank it down in a few gulps before setting the flute back down. 

Aziraphale took one of Crowley’s boots into his lap and began unlacing it, carefully, painstakingly, before easing it off along with its accompanying sock. He did the same with the other foot, watching Crowley carefully as he slowly stroked his own cock, moaning and rocking his hips just the tiniest bit. When both boots had been removed, Aziraphale pushed his underwear and trousers down Crowley’s calves and then completely off. 

Crowley spread his legs wider in response, looked at Aziraphale with a grin. He closed his palm tightly around the head of his cock and began to rut up into his fist with a dreamy sigh. 

“Mr. Fell, how would you have me?” he asked, chest heaving just slightly. Crowley knew how to hold out while masturbating, but he still had to put on a show for his angel. Aziraphale’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the sight of his glistening cock. 

“I should like to be inside you, Anthony,” he replied, moving toward him on the chaise. 

“Oooh, Mr. Fell,” Crowley moaned, lifting his hips slightly. 

Aziraphale clumsily grabbed a nearby cloisonné tin, conveniently filled with lubricant. He had been sure to prepare everything he could think of on his end of the fantasy. He had resolutely stressed to Crowley that no miracles were to be used during this little game. He scooted forward, lifting Crowley’s ass onto his thighs. He slicked one finger and began to spread the lubricant around Crowley’s hole. 

“Dear boy, I am going to prepare you now,” Aziraphale said authoritatively.

“Oh!” Crowley moaned, writhing in his lap, “Very kind of you.” 

Aziraphale began to slowly push his finger inside, feeling the tight heat of his lover. With his free hand, he petted the demon’s thigh gently. Crowley began to rock his hips, slowly enveloping Aziraphale’s finger. The angel licked his hips, looking at the wanton demon on his lap. His frame was reasonably light in Aziraphale’s lap, but the writhing and shifting was driving Aziraphale to the brink. Before he knew it, Crowley was lightly fucking himself on his pointer finger. 

“Oh, you’re already ready for another finger, dear boy,” he said breathlessly, beginning to push another inside. 

Aziraphale watched Crowley, totally rapt. He was pumping his cock lazily in a loose fist. He was sprawled elegantly, long and lean. Aziraphale looked at his clean-shaven jaw, his carefully-coiffed hair colored a darker shade of red from the styling product he’d used. Crowley was grinning at him hungrily. He spied Aziraphale’s weeping cock standing ignored and at attention. His line of sight was disrupted when Aziraphale’s middle finger pushed fully inside of him. Aziraphale began to hook his fingers, stroking Crowley from the inside. 

“Mr. Fell!” Crowley called, squeezing his cock tight around the base, “Mr. Fell, I need you inside me!”

“Oh, Anthony,” Aziraphale replied, “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yes!” Crowley cried, fixing him with a desperate gaze. 

“Shall we move to the bedroom?” Aziraphale asked, looking over his shoulder. 

Crowley nodded hastily. Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on Crowley’s thigh as he slowly drew his fingers out. Crowley moaned at the emptiness. He scooted back off of Aziraphale’s lap and swung his legs over the edge of the chaise, his bare feet on the cool floor. 

“The bedroom is right through here,” Aziraphale said, standing and moving toward a closed door that Crowley had never seen before. 

In fact, Crowley was positive that this door hadn’t even been there before. He looked from Aziraphale’s hard, exposed cock up to his patient-but-flushed face and stood. The angel stopped to collect the champagne flutes, bottle and ice bucket before leading him to the unfamiliar door. He had also stealthily grabbed the tin of lubricant. Aziraphale opened the door, waving Crowley in first in a gentlemanly fashion. 

Crowley gasped at the space before him. The room was entirely period-correct and positively ornate. The wallpaper was a lovely patterned champagne color. The bed in the center of the room was a dark wood four-poster, with a lush purple canopy and gold-tasseled curtains. The sheets were a deep purple, and the many pillows were a shade of golden silk. On each nightstand was an ornate lamp, each with an ostentatious tasseled shade. 

“This is incredible, Mr. Fell,” Crowley commented, walking inside and marveling at the rococo floor. 

“Thank you, Anthony,” he replied, “Please, do make yourself at home.”

Aziraphale breezed past the demon’s naked form, placing the champagne and necessary accoutrements on the nightstand. He filled the two flutes and handed one to Crowley who had settled on the edge of the immense bed. Crowley was still looking around as he sipped distractedly.  
Aziraphale drank his champagne and demurely set the tin of lubricant on the nightstand while the demon wasn’t looking. Crowley tossed back the rest of his champagne and stretched his lithe body to place it on the nightstand. 

Aziraphale stepped closer, between his knees, and reached out a hand to stroke his demon’s long slim side. 

“Now, what can I do for you, Mr. Fell?” Crowley asked, leaning back on his elbows and fixing Aziraphale with the most alluring of stares. 

Aziraphale sat on a nearby wingback chair and hastily but neatly took off his shoes and socks. He stood and unbuttoned the final remaining button on his pants, and began to push them down. He maneuvered his cock out of his underwear next. 

Crowley watched from the bed with hungry serpentine eyes. He adored Aziraphale’s corporation, and it was perfect for a fine Victorian gentleman. He’s thought that in the 1800s and still thought that now. All that milky skin, his portly build. He was perfect, every blasted, bloody inch of him. Crowley was salivating as he watched his angel stand back up straight from removing his underthings. He gazed as he sturdy thighs, at his wide hips. Yes, Crowley did like this little game after all. 

Aziraphale approached the bed slowly, stepping between Crowley’s boney knees. He braced himself, his hands on the outside of Crowley’s elbows, palms pressed against the brocade duvet cover. He lowered his body down against Crowley’s, first their thighs pressing together, then their aching cocks, eliciting a soft moan from either, then Aziraphale pushed his soft belly against Crowley, effectively pinning him. Crowley was savoring the moment, as well as the gorgeous weight of his partner on top of him. 

Aziraphale leaned in wordlessly for a kiss. Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale’s neck, resulting in the angel fully pressed against him, and his own back flat against the bed. Crowley kissed Aziraphale hungrily, hot and needy. Aziraphale tried to keep pace, feeling Crowley’s beautiful wiry body undulating underneath him. When Aziraphale tried to pull away for a few breaths, Crowley bit his lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before letting go. 

Aziraphale stared down into Crowley’s eyes. The demon’s pupils were wide and dark with lust. He shifted his hips, rubbing their cocks together again. Crowley hissed and Aziraphale let out a high moan.

“Take me,” Crowley whispered in the space between hungry kisses, “I’m yours for the night.”

Aziraphale repositioned his arms and held Crowley’s face in his hands. He ground his hips fiercely against the lithe demon underneath him. Crowley hissed sharply at the feeling and arched into the angel’s softness. 

Aziraphale pushed himself up somewhat abruptly and crawled to the foot of the bed. 

“Up you go now,” he said hastily, waving Crowley toward the sumptuous mound of pillows.

Crowley followed suit, leaning back against the pillows and spreading his thighs wide. Aziraphale took in the sight with a shaky intake of breath. He crawled up to Crowley and swiftly lifted his hips, ducking down to tongue his hole with purpose. 

The warm, wet sensation made Crowley gasp. He liked it when Aziraphale took control, especially when he had his hips in the air and was being licked. Crowley fisted the sheets groaning and rocking as Aziraphale held him. The angel continued to lick, holding tight to his demon’s hips.  
When Aziraphale came up for air, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Something about this gesture was pointedly vulgar to Crowley, sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock. 

“Anthony, I’m going to take you,” Aziraphale said breathlessly, his eyes locked with the demon’s. 

“Yes!” Crowley hissed, feeling a pronounced tremble in his thighs.  
Aziraphale rose to his knees and reached across to the tin of lubricant, efficiently slicking his cock. He then lifted Crowley’s hips with his warm hands. Crowley keened at the feeling of Aziraphale’s blunt cock against his ass, slowly pushing inside. 

“Ah!” he gasped, “Take me!”

Aziraphale shushed and soothed his partner. 

“Anthony, no,” he gritted, “I wish to… Sink into you slowly.”

Crowley let out an alluringly high-pitched moan and gripped the sheets with his long, spindly fingers. As Aziraphale pressed inside of him, he felt the muscles in his thighs bounce. Aziraphale's cock was thick, stretching Crowley open in the loveliest way. 

“You’re so tight,” Aziraphale said, “So warm. Oh, Anthony, you feel positively divine. You look so beautiful... Like a royal consort against my sheets. If only you could see yourself.”

Crowley let out a strangled groan, trying to grind his hips. He felt a strand of pre-cum going cool on his belly. 

“Mr. Fell, please,” Crowley begged, gold eyes going wide to stare at Aziraphale pleadingly. 

Aziraphale’s heart clenched at the gaze he received from his lover. The molten heat of Crowley around his cock had him nearly panting already. The angel held perfectly still as he pushed the last centimeter of his cock inside his demon. 

Crowley squirmed, feeling Aziraphale’s hips against his inner thighs, feeling the warm hang of his belly against his own straining cock. His eyes traveled slowly up the angel’s beautiful, curvy form, settling on his face. Aziraphale had regained his composure. He moved his hands to the duvet, bracing himself on either side of Crowley’s upper arms. 

“Anthony, I would like you to tell me about the other men you’ve had,” Aziraphale said, a slight tremble in his voice belying his confident façade. 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Crowley said with a wicked grin.

Aziraphale, without pulling out, pushed his hips forward, scooting Crowley up the bed by a few inches. The demon threw his head back and hissed. 

“Mind who is paying you, young Anthony,” Aziraphale chided. 

Crowley gently shook his head and raised his hands, stroking Aziraphale’s forearms. 

“I suppose I could tell you a little,” he teased.

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale moaned, beginning to rock his hips just slightly. 

“Many of them are not kind,” Crowley began, reveling in the motion of Aziraphale’s hips, “some like to rough me up a little while they have their way with me.”

“Oh, that’s _dreadful_,” Aziraphale sighed, though his tone begged for more.

“Oh, yes. I get smacked around a bit. One gent in particular likes to choke me with his cock,” Crowley said, keenly watching his lover’s face, “He chokes me until he’s nearly done and then finishes on my face, on my chest, on my belly. So much mess. He has a nasty habit of throwing his money onto me, sticking to his cum, and leaves before it's even gone cool.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale groaned, a savage tremble going through him, “Barbaric!”

Crowley melted a bit into the bed as Aziraphale’s movements began to gather momentum. The slow and steady drag of his angel’s cock inside him was fantastic. He felt soothed, hypnotized, though his cock was beginning to feel sorely neglected. 

“There’s another. He’s a prominent fellow. Houses of Parliament. He asks that I dress in lacy women’s underthings and order him around, before I ride his cock like a pony,” Crowley said, having fun inventing these scenarios, “But let’s just keep that one between us, Mr. Fell.”

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of telling a soul,” Aziraphale replied, beginning to move his cock deeper, faster. 

“There’s one chap. Absolute buffoon, he is. Comes in wearing a fancy tailored suit. He just sits in a chair across from the bed and watches me touch myself. Never seen his cock. He keeps it in his knickers while he strokes it. Suppose he likes to soil those fine trousers,” Crowley said, lifting his legs to wrap around Aziraphale’s broad, soft hips, trying to coax his lover’s cock even deeper. 

“And tell me, Anthony, what kind of,” Aziraphale faltered here, swallowing audibly, “What kind of cocks do you like?”

Crowley grunted at the word on his lover’s lips, arching his back a little. The ridge of Aziraphale's cock head was catching him in a particularly wondrous place.

“I like all sorts of cocks, Mr. Fell. Have to in my business,” he said, “But I like cocks like yours best of all. Nice and thick.”

Aziraphale was burning up. His thrusts were measured and careful, for he didn’t want to lose himself too soon. Crowley’s tight grip around him was mind-numbingly good. 

“I’m sure you must say that to all the gentlemen,” he said, feigning an easy little chuckle. 

“Only when it’s true, only when they ask,” Crowley said, “You’ve been exceedingly kind to me, Mr. Fell. Men often come to my modest quarters, where they have their pick of all the boys in the stable. It’s not often I get champagne treatment. It’s not often I get a plush bed.”

Crowley’s arms were inching up, slowly encircling Aziraphale’s neck. Crowley was riding now, but gently. He met each of Aziraphale’s thrusts, but with a sort of gentle finesse. He wanted this to last all evening. 

“Anthony, you’re a fine boy,” Aziraphale said, looking down at his wanton demon, “You were kind enough to guide me home this evening.”

“Perhaps I was trying to ensnare you,” Crowley suggested helpfully, arching his back so his stiff cock dug into Aziraphale’s belly, “Maybe I saw you as an easy payday and tried the luck of my charms.”

He leaned up to kiss Aziraphale, all tongue and teeth. It was a hungry, desperate sort of kiss. When they broke apart, briefly connected by a crystalline strand of spittle, both were finding it a bit harder to breathe. 

“Maybe so,” Aziraphale said, thoughtfully, “though whatever the reason, it did work. Do you feel how hard my cock is for you? How hard it is inside you?”

Crowley’s head snapped back at the vulgar question and it was Aziraphale’s turn to hiss as Crowley’s muscles tightened sharply around him, squeezing his cock. 

“Yes, you’re such a _lovely_ boy,” Aziraphale said in a harsh whisper, lowering his lips to Crowley’s exposed throat, dropping soft kisses between words, “So elegant and slim. Such a lovely frame. Handsome face. Nice stiff cock. And such long, shapely legs.”

Crowley was mewling underneath him, allowing himself to be rocked and kissed. Aziraphale drew his body back, Crowley suddenly feeling cooler from the absence of his generous frame. He opened his eyes, feeling his legs being lifted from around Aziraphale’s waist to over his shoulders. Aziraphale held him by the ankles, snapping his hips in short thrusts. 

“Yes, you’re so lovely, Anthony,” he managed between thrusts. 

Crowley watched the bounce of all Aziraphale’s softness, hypnotized. His hands itched to grab and squeeze. There was a particularly tantalizing fold of flesh at Aziraphale’s sides, just above his hip bones. Crowley found himself unable to lift his hands to grab at his plush, sensuous angel. All he could do was gasp in time with his angel's deep, commanding thrusts. 

“So lovely I might just keep you,” Aziraphale teased, kissing his sensitive ankle, “Perhaps I’ll make you mine and keep you here permanently.”

Crowley moaned rhythmically, the new angle of Aziraphale’s cock was doing wonders on his body. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling as a heat grew coiled in his belly, his neglected cock positively throbbing. 

“Keep you wet and open and ready for my cock,” Aziraphale said, his voice dropping to a more seductive tone, “You’d never have to leave this bed if you didn’t want to.”

Crowley’s entire body stiffened in one massive clench as he let out a shout, muffled by the back of his hand against his mouth. His angel had such a dirty mouth when he got lost in one of their little games. 

“I’d have you all the time, in so many ways, Anthony,” Aziraphale soothed, “I’ve so many naughty books – I’ve learned so many ways to do it.”

Crowley moaned loudly again from behind his hand, high and needy. 

“Now, that won’t do, dear boy,” Aziraphale chided, stilling his hips. 

He let go of Crowley’s legs and grasped his own cock around the base, pulling out rather swiftly. Crowley gasped loudly, a little shocked at the loss. 

Aziraphale leaned forward and pulled Crowley’s hand away from his mouth. The demon looked up at him with wide eyes. 

“I want to hear you, dear,” Aziraphale said, “your cries are so gratifying.”

He lifted Crowley’s hips slightly, leaving Crowley to follow his implied instructions. Crowley shifted, twisted his long lean body until he was on his knees, his chest brushing the sheets. Aziraphale sighed at the long, languid stretch of his back. 

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale sighed, running his hands down Crowley’s sculpted ass, his wiry thighs, “Just lovely.”

Crowley groaned again as Aziraphale’s cock slowly breached him once more. This time, however, Aziraphale’s hand reached around and held his cock firmly. Crowley arched his back and sucked in a deep breath, letting out a shuddering cry of relief. 

“I haven’t forgotten about you, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, “How would you like to make a mess of my fine sheets?”

Crowley’s hips surged forward at the suggestion, but Aziraphale pulled him back onto his own cock. The angel began a steady rhythm, pumping Crowley’s cock in time, feeling it throb hotly in his palm, spreading around the slick pre-cum. 

“Maybe after a rest, I’ll let you have me, Anthony,” Aziraphale mused, “Such a nice cock. I’ll bet you’re damn fine on top, too.”

“Aah!” Crowley nearly shouted, "Give it to me!" 

“That’s right, I want to hear you,” Aziraphale said, squeezing his partner’s cock tight and pulling slowly as his own hips began to move faster. 

“Mr. Fell, please!” Crowley groaned desperately, “Fuck me! I need your cock!”

Crowley’s cheek rested on the pillows as his heart raced, as his brain began to short-circuit. The sounds were almost too much for him. The fleshy slap of Aziraphale against him and the squelchy wet sounds of his desperate cock being tugged, the heavy breathing of his lover. 

“Aaaaaahhh,” Crowley drawled out, pushing back against his sturdy angel. 

Aziraphale changed the angle of his thrusts slightly, beginning to lose himself in the incomparable feel of Crowley’s body around him. His free hand wandered down the bumps of Crowley’s spine. 

“Perhaps I should keep you here and care for you a bit. You’re thin as a rake,” he mused, “I’m sure you would find a way to make it up to me.”

Aziraphale was now thrusting his cock inside of Crowley with long, lunging strokes, informing the motion of his hand on Crowley’s cock. 

“Would you like to be my boy, Anthony? My kept boy?” Aziraphale asked, leaning forward to be closer to Crowley’s ear. 

“Oh!” Crowley gasped before desperately moaning, “Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, pleeeeaaase.”

Crowley felt the warm press of Aziraphale’s flesh against his back, the welcome weight of his belly cushioning his thrusts. 

“Yes, lovely thing. I’d keep you. I’d make sure you wouldn’t want for anything,” Aziraphale began, “Least of all for my cock.”

“I’m gonna cum!” Crowley gasped desperately beneath him, clawing at the sheets, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

“Not yet!” Aziraphale replied, “I want to watch!”

Crowley quickly turned over in a wild daze, his thighs splayed inelegantly across the bed. He hazily realized that Aziraphale had pulled out at some point, and was now pushing his cock back inside of him swiftly. Crowley didn't complain. He loved the sensation of being filled up. Aziraphale picked up a lovely rhythm again. He reached down and tightly held Crowley’s cock. 

“Anthony, put your hand on mine. Show me how you like it,” Aziraphale said, sounding rather desperate himself.

Crowley looked up at his lover, at the flush of his cheeks, at the heave of his chest. He knew that Aziraphale was close, too. He gripped Aziraphale’s hand and set a steady pace. Aziraphale’s grip on his cock was perfect, as always. Crowley planted his feet on the bed and lifted his hips a bit, thrusting back against Aziraphale in counter rhythm. 

“Mr. Fell, I’m so close,” Crowley begged, “I’m gonna – I’m, ughh – I’m…”

Crowley tossed his head and bit his lip. Aziraphale looked at him, at his exceedingly handsome face, at his wrecked expression. 

“Go on, dear boy,” he encouraged, his own voice high and thin with desire, “Show me.”

Crowley’s eyes rolled back as he arched his back higher off the bed. Aziraphale felt his cock pulsing and watched the pearly splashes of cum as they flung across Crowley’s stomach, some nearly up onto his chest. Crowley was crying out, pistoning his hips, searching for more. Without letting go of his throbbing cock, Aziraphale bore down on him, using his larger body to push Crowley into the bed. His thrusts were deep and fast and wild, feeling Crowley's inner-muscles gripping him rhythmically. As his vision started to go dark at the edges, he felt the first hot surge of his own orgasm, but he held fast to the beautiful image of Crowley, his coiffed hair, his severe cheekbones, his thin lips parted his pleasured gasps. 

Aziraphale cried out over and over, feeling himself fill Crowley, listening to Crowley moaning beneath him. He was cumming so hard, spilling into his lovely rent boy. It seemed to go on forever. Aziraphale felt himself collapse on top of his lover, creating one panting, gasping mess of two supernatural beings. Moments went by. Hours could have gone by. 

Crowley began to shake it off first, feeling the heavy, wonderful weight of his partner on top of him, of his softening cock inside of him still pulsing slightly, and deeper inside, the spreading warmth of his cum. He reached up and began to stroke one hand through Aziraphale’s hair, feeling his frame shaking with breath. 

Aziraphale slowly came out of his post-orgasmic haze, aware that his hair was being pet, aware of a hot stickiness on his belly, aware of a lovely demon beneath him. He gently pulled out, twinging with sensitivity, before inelegantly rolling onto his back, still heaving from the exertion.  
When he looked over, Crowley was smiling at him, wordlessly. Aziraphale felt himself slowly smile back, so overwhelmed he was with love. 

“My dear, that was marvelous,” Aziraphale said, eyes wide. 

Crowley slithered over next to him, tucking himself between Aziraphale’s arm and body, draping one long arm over Aziraphale’s belly, feeling the rhythm of his breaths. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Crowley said, a wicked glint in his eye, “Now, for my payment-”

Aziraphale laughed, gently jostling the demon. Crowley laughed too, but it was a soft laugh, a laugh only for his beloved angel. 

“You are dreadful,” the angel teased, “But for payment, you may choose the next game we play.”

“Oh, marvelous,” Crowley lovingly mocked, “I’ll make sure it’s a good one.”

A happy silence fell between them, Aziraphale stroking Crowley’s hair as the demon rested his head on his soft chest. Aziraphale spoke as their breaths became slower and more regular.

“Crowley, you were wonderful. You played your part so beautifully. You chose the most perfect clothing. You were just perfect.” Aziraphale said quietly, kissing his hair, “Thank you for indulging me.”

Crowley’s voice was slightly muffled, as he was cuddled tightly into Aziraphale’s chest. 

“The pleasure was all mine, angel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dearest readers,  
I hope you enjoyed this fun little fic! I hope to make this part of a four-part series, with two fics focused on Crowley and two on Aziraphale in which they live out some of their specific fantasies for topping and bottoming. Keep an eye out for the rest!  
I hope you've all been well and that you have lovely dreams tonight.  
Sordidly yours,  
Amorous Flammetta


End file.
